


A Logical Proposition

by prototyping



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action, Dimitri Week 2019, Friendship, Gen, felt cute might write a sequel later, not super shippy but kind of setting up for it?, optionally an alt A-support??, they're both idiots with good intentions, this is set pre-A support, you can interpret it as you like how's that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: “I’m not so pessimistic as that,” Dimitri protested, but he didn’t sound so sure.“Indeed,” she quipped with a bristle of sarcasm. “You’re only selling yourself so short as to believe there isn’t a single woman in the country who might see you as a husband rather than an asset.”[Done for the prompt “Long Rides” for Dimitri Week 2019.]
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	A Logical Proposition

Even now, Ingrid was surprised by how loud the battlefield could be.

Weapons clashing, angry shouting, pained screams, the thunder of humans and horses trampling everything in their path—it was almost mind-numbing, and care had to be taken to avoid tuning it all out. The opponent in front of her was important, but so were the sounds all around her that would alert her to enemy movements or allies in need or a leader’s command.

It was—part of—why fighting took just as much of a toll mentally as it did physically: even if she steeled herself against the horrific reality of death on the battlefield, the effort it required to be _aware_ was exhausting in itself. For Ingrid, especially, whose role was to fight as well as defend, it was all too easy to be worn down by the infinite number of distractions.

The terrain was also less than ideal; the Empire’s troops had engaged their forces early, intercepting them on the mountainside, where enemy archers had too many opportunities for cover and the footing was often tricky in places. The drop-off into the neighboring ravine was another constant threat, although the professor had acted quickly enough to prevent the monastery’s army from being trapped against it. The plateau was an even blend of both armies at this point.

Ingrid had lost sight of the professor early on, and most recently Felix. Sylvain was only just on the edge of her vision, likely to be lost amid the churning, clashing sea of red and blue uniforms if he continued to push forward. She had no choice but to curb her concern and trust all of them, since her focus was on staying close to Dimitri.

He certainly didn’t need the supervision. It was rare for an enemy soldier to come within an arm’s length of him before being cut down; there was a ring of corpses around where he stood and his brutal strikes showed no signs of slowing down yet. All the same, Ingrid’s duty was to him, first and foremost. Unless he ordered her away, she would continue to make his safety her priority by keeping him in her sight.

She wasn’t alone in that responsibility, either: as ever, Dedue was never far, keeping a constant and watchful eye on his charge even as he similarly slaughtered without hesitation. Ingrid didn’t let down her guard, but knowing that let her feel a bit more at ease.

It was also easy to forget how unpredictable the battlefield could be, no matter how hard she strove to watch and listen for every detail.

There was no warning, no shout from Dimitri or anyone else to say something was wrong. Ingrid just so happened to be glancing in his direction when a blast of magic slammed into the earth beside him, literally ripping the ground from underneath his feet and sending him tumbling.

For an instant she was stunned, caught off guard at seeing him vulnerable. He had been all but invincible during this long campaign, ignoring his injuries and cutting through every enemy as though he were above pain and fatigue. Even now, as he rolled off of his back and up onto his knees, he sliced his lance across the belly of an enemy soldier who tried to surprise him.

His momentum, however, was a bit too much to handle: Dimitri leapt to his feet in the same motion, which took him a step too close to the end of the path—and the edge of the plateau—behind him.

By the time he realized his misstep, Ingrid was already kicking her Pegasus forward. With the reins in one hand she threw her lance across her lap to free the other, leaning forward in the stirrups and reaching for him as she thundered closer. Their eyes met as he teetered precariously on the cliff’s edge. His free hand rose to reach back—and then he plummeted out of sight.

“ _No!_ ” She urged the horse on faster. His wings snapped open on either side in anticipation, and then he sprang over the cliffside and into the open air. Ingrid quickly threw her weight forward with a jerk of the reins, directing him down before he could fill his wings with the wind, and he responded immediately by folding them in against his sides. Together they dove downward.

It was a straight drop to the valley below and the forest was rising up to meet them at an alarming speed. These were background details—Ingrid had eyes only for Dimitri, and thought of nothing but closing the gap between them. Again she leaned forward, stretching and reaching, jaw set against the sharp wind making her eyes water.

He was only a yard away—less—

She leaned down against her steed’s neck and wrapped her reins-hand around the saddle’s horn, thighs squeezing his sides, to brace herself as well as she was able. This would be rough, potentially deadly if she wasn’t careful—and perhaps even if she was.

They were almost in the trees. Their fingertips brushed once, twice, and with a shout Ingrid lunged as far as she dared. Her fingers found purchase on Dimitri’s forearm, his on hers, and they both gripped tight.

A second later, the Pegasus pulled out of his dive to skim along the treetops. He wasn’t anticipating the extra weight: as Ingrid fought against being ripped from the saddle by Dimitri’s bulk, the horse whinnied and suddenly rolled.

The next few moments were too chaotic for Ingrid to follow it all, but it was likely that the horse struck or even caught on a branch. His wings flapped desperately as he tried to upright himself, ignoring her calls, and without warning they all crashed down through the trees.

The fall seemed to last forever. Branches snapped and cracked, the horse screamed, and Ingrid’s pulse pounded in her ears as she was battered against tree trunks and leaves slapped at her face. Dimitri was abruptly torn from her grasp.

A large branch caught her hard across the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs and her out of the saddle. She lost her sense of direction completely and could only scrabble for a hold on anything within reach, only to continue bouncing off of branches—which, fortunately, slowed her descent before she finally hit the ground feet-first. Pain shot up her left leg to her knee and she bit back a cry.

For a moment she lay still on her side, panting and trying to take stock of the rest of her aches and pains while her head stopped spinning. By the time she determined that her ankle was likely sprained, but nothing was broken, her horse was back on his feet and picking his way over tree roots to get to her. He still looked spooked and sported a number of bloody scratches on his white hide, but he was otherwise calmer now that he was back on all fours.

Ingrid hauled herself up using the stirrup and kept her weight on her good leg.

“Your Highness?” She spun in place as well as she could to scan the area, but the trees were thick. “Your Highness, where are you?”

* * *

Dimitri awoke in a confused haze of aches and uncertainty. Breathing felt awkward. He was lightheaded. Even after he opened his good eye, it took him a long moment to realize that he was looking at the ground, which was moving.

He lifted his heavy head. Trees. Sky.

He was on horseback. Rather, he was slung over it on his stomach like a sack. Without thinking, he pushed himself off and dropped to his feet—and stumbled as the sudden rush of blood from his head made him dizzy.

“Your Highness!” The horse stopped and Ingrid appeared beside it, her face covered in small scratches and a concerned frown. She carried Areadbhar in one hand, her own lance slung across her back. “Are you alright?”

He waved away her concern as the stars slowly faded from his vision. “Yes, I’m fine. A few bruises at the worst.”

“Thank goodness. But please, don’t push yourself—you must have hit your head pretty hard back there.”

Dimitri felt along his skull and found a sizable lump above his ear. That explained his headache. “How long was I out?”

“We haven’t been traveling long. Less than a half hour.” As she said it, Dimitri realized they were alone—and not even on a path, but moving through the uncharted forest. “We fell on the southern side of the mountain,” Ingrid went on, noticing his expression. “I’ve been leading us northeast, but there’s been no sign of our forces so far.”

“What of the enemy?”

“None sighted yet.”

“Good. Let us hope it stays that way. And what of your own injuries?”

She suddenly avoided his gaze. “Nothing to worry over,” she said slowly. He crossed his arms with a stern look.

“Ingrid.”

She glanced at him, sighed, and then looked down as she raised her left foot slightly. “A sprain, I think. It will be fine once I see a healer,” she added quickly, but Dimitri wasn’t letting her off that easily.

“Then why on earth are you _walking?_ ”

“Because he hurt his wing in the fall, and the terrain’s too rough for him.” She nodded at the horse. “If he fell and sprained a joint, or worse, there would have been no way for me to move you.” Her tone was patient but the look in her eyes brooked no argument—as though Dimitri’s safety was objectively more important than anything else.

Before he could argue, a roll of thunder in the distance turned both their heads toward the distant horizon.

“We should get moving,” Ingrid suggested, beating him to the punch. “The storm’s moving quickly. Assuming we stay ahead of it, crossing back to the northern side will still take us the better part of the day.”

“Very well. I’ll take the lead, then. You ride.”

Ingrid passed him his lance, which she’d been using as a crutch, and before he could offer to help she hauled herself up into the saddle. Even with her bad leg, she made it look effortless. “He can carry us both once we reach better ground,” she promised, but Dimitri wasn’t too concerned. Depending on how rough the mountain path was, there was a chance the Pegasus wouldn’t walk any faster than he could.

With the reins in one hand, Dimitri began picking his way through the forest as quickly as he dared, minding the horse’s steps as it followed him through the brush. By the time the ground evened out a bit more, Dimitri had chosen his words. “Thank you, Ingrid, for coming after me. I’m sorry it was necessary.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Your Highness. I’m just glad I made it in time.”

 _There’s nothing to apologize for._ He winced at that. There was a _lot_ to apologize for, as far as he was concerned, and he had yet to do so properly. Knowing that Ingrid had recklessly thrown herself after him like that, even after the way he had behaved these last few months and all he had done in the past several years...

He certainly wasn’t surprised by her loyalty, but knowing that made him feel worse.

For now he was silent, intent on monitoring their surroundings. He could only imagine how worried their allies were. He wondered if anyone had even noticed the two of them falling over the mountainside, or if rumors of their capture were spreading. Either way, the army’s morale would be suffering.

As if detecting his train of thought, Ingrid spoke up again. “I’m sure the Professor has everything under control. I imagine she’ll send out search parties, so we may get lucky.”

“Agreed. I’ve no doubt the battle went in our favor, but I’m sure some of our friends are beside themselves at the moment.” Gustave, most notably. Sylvain would be playing it off, one of the first voices to assure everyone else that the king and his knight-to-be were surely fine, but his smiles would be fake and his tone a little too serious. Felix was probably leading one of the search parties, happy to cut down any enemies who might be responsible, and Dedue would also be anxiously helping with the hunt.

Dimitri glanced up at the mountain range through the treetops. Ingrid was right: in his absence, there was no one he trusted to lead more than their professor. The troops were in good hands, which meant all they had to worry about was getting back safely themselves.

He was taking comfort in that thought when the arrow slammed into his side.

“Your Highness!”

The force of it made him stagger. He jammed his spear into the ground to catch himself and then lunged forward into a run, half-dragging the horse after him into where the trees were thickest. Half a dozen _thunks_ rained around them as more arrows missed their mark.

Dimitri steered the horse behind a trunk wide enough to hide it, and then pressed his back to the tree to peer around. “Imperial forces,” he confirmed grimly.

“At least two groups,” Ingrid added. She had already drawn her lance. “Archers on the hill.”

With an impatient snort Dimitri chanced a glimpse down at his side, baring his teeth at the shaft protruding from his armor just above his hip. Only then did the pain hit him, a sharp sting that confirmed it had found the flesh beneath, but hadn’t gone too deep. With a snarl he wrenched it free, more concerned with the prospect of poison than bleeding out.

Shouts and the sound of movement grew closer. “I’ll engage the front line,” he said quickly, “if you can circle around for the rest.”

“Understood.”

Dimitri tossed her the reins and a second later Ingrid kicked the Pegasus forward, surging out from behind their cover. He followed at a run.

He counted half a dozen swordsmen at a glance. Their focus shifted immediately from Ingrid to himself and he knew they recognized him; that was likely why he’d been shot rather than Ingrid, the easier target.

As she barreled on towards the red uniforms further up the slope, Dimitri stood his ground and braced his weapon in both hands.

It was almost depressingly easy. These were likely remnants from the troops they had faced earlier, battleworn and tired, with none of them sporting heavy armor. They fell as easily as Dimitri could swing his lance.

The trees were splattered with red by the time the last one crumpled. He spared the corpses only a passing glance as he stepped over them, his stony expression hiding how eagerly the heat of his bloodlust rippled through him at such easy slaughter.

He hurried after Ingrid.

Even on horseback she was a blur of controlled motion, her right hand throwing parries and slashes and jabs of her lance while her left directed her steed as acutely as though it were an extension of herself. Several imperials lay dead, but there were more enemies than Dimitri had noticed before, and not all of them archers.

As he watched, a soldier landed a blow of his sword against Ingrid’s chestplate as she was fighting off another. The blade didn’t pierce it, but the strike was heavy enough to knock her from the saddle.

Dimitri shouted to draw their attention, but their heads had barely turned when Ingrid rose again. Favoring her right leg, she tore her lance across one man’s side and pivoted to knock another’s sword away before stabbing him in the shoulder.

Dimitri was sprinting now, or as well as he could while winding his way through the underbrush. Ingrid still had spirit to spare, but he could see there was a desperate edge to her movements. Like the rest, she was tired, and it was showing.

As he raced uphill and wove between the trees, he caught snippets of the battle: Ingrid landing a solid strike against one soldier’s stomach—Ingrid’s knee bending as she barely caught an overhead blow against her lance’s shaft—Ingrid being forced backwards and stumbling, her bad leg giving and dropping her on her hip—the man behind her appearing with his sword drawn back in both hands to stab her like a coward—

Dimitri’s vision went red. He didn’t give the action any conscious thought: in a heartbeat he’d drawn Areadbhar back over his shoulder and hurled it.

It buried itself in the soldier’s back and exploded through his chest. He fell dead on his face and Ingrid seized the shaft sticking out of him to drag herself back to her feet, narrowly batting aside another soldier’s attack with her own weapon.

Dimitri was at her side a second later. He caught the soldier by the throat and hauled him off the ground, the choked scream ending with a muffled _snap_ as Dimitri’s fingers constricted. He tossed the limp body aside with cold disregard, wrenched his bloody lance from the last soldier’s corpse, and turned to the last two enemies still standing—who wavered for a bold couple seconds before abruptly turning and fleeing.

They didn’t get far.

Only when they lay still at his feet did Dimitri’s temper recede. He exhaled heavily, sharply, as though dispelling the last of his violent impulses along with it. He turned back to Ingrid. “Are you alright?”

He expected to see some hint of discomfort on her face, for her to perhaps avoid looking at him or the annihilated bodies directly, but her expression was professionally stoic. If his bloody enthusiasm bothered her, she respected him too much to admit it.

“Yes, Your Highness. And you?”

As the angry chorus of voices that had filled his head for the last few minutes continued to dim and decline, all he could think to reply was, “Yes. I’m fine now.”

* * *

They found the forest path right as the rain began to fall in a drizzle. Dimitri mounted the horse to sit behind Ingrid, holding their weapons while she managed the reins. With little room to spare, he had to sit almost flat against her back, but he barely felt her weight through his armor. As the Pegasus broke into a canter, every once in a while Dimitri would reach around her to grip the saddle’s horn for balance, but the path was mostly easy and the horse mindful of his burden.

“Do you remember the last time we shared a saddle like this?” he asked after a couple minutes of riding in silence. The ground was rockier here and Ingrid had slowed their mount to a walk.

She responded with a rather flat-sounding _ha_. “If you’re referring to the time you scared my horse into bolting, and then we had to take yours out into the fields for two hours looking for her, then yes, I remember it very well.”

“Ah... Is that what happened?”

“We went out to spar, remember? Down by the river. You were showing us your lance-throwing skills and you split a tree right in half. The noise sent that poor mare running for her life.”

Dimitri turned his laugh into a fake cough. “Oh. Right. ...I recall you were terribly mad at me.”

“I was _furious._ ” He could hear the grin in her voice. “But you promised to help me find her, and you did hold true to your word.”

“Of course. Even if we hadn’t been friends, you were terrifying when you were angry.” He reached down and gave the Pegasus’ flank a hearty pat. “It would seem I’m just a stroke of bad luck when it comes to your horses.”

As if on cue, the rain started to pick up. Draping his cloak over his arm, Dimitri huddled closer to Ingrid and held it over their heads. “Or perhaps just for you,” he corrected.

She shook her head as she nudged the horse into a faster pace. “Nonsense. I consider it good fortune that we’ve come so far together.” As usual, her optimism wasn’t deterred. Dimitri wished it had rubbed off on him a bit more as children.

The storm caught up to them proper as they reached the edge of the forest. Within minutes of starting up the mountain, the rain had soaked the both of them through despite his efforts to shield them, and was too heavy to see very far and too loud to hear well. Rather than risk another surprise encounter in those conditions, they agreed to seek shelter until the worst of it had passed.

In a stroke of _good_ luck, the first cave they found was big enough for both of them plus the horse, and deep enough to provide cover from the wind.

“It’s a shame we don’t have anything for a fire.” Ingrid removed her dripping cape and wrung it out, and then laid it along the cave floor. “Although,” she mused as she stretched her arm across her chest, wincing, “it's much more merciful than being in the heart of Faerghus in the middle of winter.”

“That it is,” Dimitri chuckled. He had likewise shed some of his outer layers and now sat near the cave mouth, his torso stripped down to his cotton undershirt. “Don’t tell me you actually think this is cold, Ingrid. Or has all this time down south made you soft?”

She sat down close to him on his left, stretching her injured leg out in front of her and drawing the other to her chest. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But I didn’t hear you complaining in that thick cloak of yours.” She flashed him a teasing smile before looking out at the curtain of rain.

Dimitri watched her a little longer. She looked utterly at ease, as comfortable with their casual proximity as ever. Whatever discomfort she had surely felt regarding his previous behavior seemed to have passed; it was as though she trusted him as much as she always had.

After a moment he also looked out at the soggy scenery. “How’s your leg doing?”

“Not as swollen as I feared. The pain’s gone down, as well.” Ingrid glanced down between them. “And you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Perfectly,” he insisted. She’d already made him remove his armor to prove it earlier. The arrow wound would leave another scar, but the damage was superficial. “Judging by your display in that battle, my impression of your ability didn’t do you justice until now,” he remarked, catching her eye. “You never fought me like that.”

Ingrid shook her head. “Of course not. I would never have reason to fight you as though my life depended on it.”

For a few heartbeats they held one another’s gaze. Dimitri was the first to look away.

“Ingrid,” he said slowly, “I know I apologized to everyone at large, but… I feel as though I owe you in particular a more personal apology.”

“Your Highness?” she wondered, puzzled.

“Despite whatever doubts you may have had—and I’m certain you had some—you’ve continued to follow me. Had things turned out differently, you could have died a pointless death in the name of my selfishness.” His frown edged into a bitter smile. “Although, I suppose I speak too soon. As long as this war continues, that is always a possibility.”

“Your Highness.” Ingrid’s face was stern as she sat up straight. Despite the difference in their heights, it felt as though she was looking down at him. “With all due respect, I ask that you refrain from saying such foolish things.”

He stared at her. She didn’t wait for him to respond. “As far as I’m concerned, this war isn’t about what _you_ want,” she said firmly. “It’s about what the kingdom and country deserve—and what they deserve is justice. The kind that only _you_ could give them as their king. They deserve _you._ ” She turned away with a short, sharp sigh. “As your soldier, and a citizen of Faerghus, I consider it my duty to make sure that need is met. Death is a very real risk that I’ve decided to take in order to fulfill that duty.”

She breathed in and held it. “But… as your friend, I wish you would stop being so hard on yourself.” When she looked at him again, her expression was soft. “As cold as this may sound, what’s done is done. Make up for your actions as you move forward, if you desire, but don’t let them hold you back. To obstruct justice for everyone else by putting your own feelings first… well, I believe that _would_ be selfish.” Her gaze lowered. “And I know that you’re anything but.”

She fell silent for a moment, letting him take that in. Then, right when he thought she was done, she crossed her arms over her knee and added, “Besides, I don’t intend to lay down my life as easily as you might think.”

“Come again?” Dimitri didn’t intend to sound so skeptical, but hadn’t she been the one glorifying the death of a knight once upon a time?

To his further surprise, Ingrid smiled again without looking at him. “I’ll explain some other time, Your Highness. Or, rather… I think it’s best that I prove my point first.”

As curious as that made him, he didn’t press the matter. If she said she would explain later, then he trusted her to do so… and if that was a promise to stay alive, he would gladly hold her to it.

“...You’re one to talk of being too hard on yourself,” he said after a pause. At her questioning glance, he explained, “You put up with me willingly, despite all the headaches I must give you.”

That earned a soft laugh. “Trailing after boys and trying to knock some sense into them… it would seem that’s my lot in life,” she mused. “For what it’s worth, you’re a much simpler case than Sylvain.”

“Small mercies.” Dimitri smiled briefly. “I didn’t mean to imply that your personal cause for fighting is a baseless one,” he went on more seriously. “Only that I acknowledge my fault in making things more difficult for you. For all of you. And for that, I feel I can never apologize enough.”

She shook her head. “I understood what you meant, Your Highness. But I think such words are unnecessary—you’ve shown us the depth of your conviction through your actions. Whatever anyone else might say, I know your intentions are earnest. If I needed convincing that my choice to follow you was the right one, I wouldn’t ask for anything else.”

And that, it seemed, was the end of the discussion.

They sat for some time without speaking. The falling rain was more of a comfort than an obstacle now, with only the occasional rumble of distant thunder to interrupt it.

Dimitri turned Ingrid’s words over in his head a few times. He was glad her loyalty didn’t stop her from speaking freely. In a way, her approval was the last that he’d needed in order to finally, truly pull his gaze from the past and fix it on the future.

With that thought, he finally spoke up. “Once that duty is fulfilled, what do you plan to do?”

Ingrid’s shoulders appeared to tense for an instant, although it was a few seconds more before she answered. “Then I’ll move on to my next one.” Dimitri waited. She continued, “Whether that’s serving as a knight, or fulfilling my father’s wishes… I’ll go where I’m needed.”

“Ah…” Dimitri’s tone was sympathetic. “The Count is still on about that, is he.”

She nodded, the corner of her mouth pinching in that way that said she was more annoyed she wanted to let on. “Yes. I’m grateful that he had his priorities in order—allowing me to fight, putting the kingdom before anything else—but I’m also aware that it's only stalling the matter.”

Dimitri thought for a moment. He was sure he already knew her answer, but he decided to try, anyway. “Ingrid… If your family’s financial situation is truly so dire, might I make an offer? I couldn’t promise anything right away—there will be numerous expenses in getting the kingdom back on its feet, but I could—”

“No.” Ingrid’s reply was firm, but not harsh. “I appreciate the offer, Your Highness, but… I’m sorry if this sounds presumptuous of me, but I couldn’t place such a stigma on my house by accepting money from the royal family.” She hugged her knee closer. “But that aside… this is my responsibility to bear. You shouldn’t have to swoop down and save me from it.”

He winced. “I understand. I apologize if I’ve offended you.”

“No, I appreciate your concern.” Her sad smile said so. “And I’m honored that you would do something like that for my sake.”

He believed her, but it left a heavy weight in his stomach all the same. Even with all of his might, all of his political power, he couldn’t do a thing to help ease his friend’s burden. It wasn’t something he would be able to easily overturn, either; future nobles would face the same difficult choice that she did. The road to fixing that flaw in society was a long one—and he wasn’t sure it even had a conceivable solution at the end of it.

It was just one of many issues he would need to address, but as he sat there with Ingrid, whose entire future would be shaped by that issue, it suddenly felt more personal—and made him feel more powerless—than any of the others.

In the end, he could only offer words.

“If it comes to that, just promise me you won’t sell yourself short, Ingrid. Someone like you should have many suitors to choose from, without the need to settle for anything less than what you deserve.”

She cocked a thin eyebrow. “Someone like me?”

“Kind. Honest. Passionate about her beliefs. Family-oriented and selfless, not to mention intelligent.” When Ingrid didn’t respond, he glanced over and saw her blushing faintly.

“That’s… a bit much,” she said finally, awkwardly. “But… thank you.”

Dimitri laughed. “I could go on, honestly. But you never were very good with compliments.”

Ingrid huffed. “Well… promise me the same, then. That you won’t settle, either.”

It was his turn to stay silent.

“Your Highness?”

“I… don’t think I’ll have quite the freedom of choice as you would,” he said simply.

She sounded amused as she asked, “Why would you say that?” Dimitri traded skeptical looks with her. “What?” she pressed, looking genuinely confused. “You’re also kind and passionate, and care deeply for your allies…”

“Would you assume as much if you didn’t know me personally?” Dimitri asked. Ingrid blinked at him. “Even if I’m accepted as king, my reputation is another matter entirely. Of course, there will always be those willing to marry into royalty at any cost,” he added, seeing her about to interject. “I’ve no doubt that I’ll have opportunities, but… not as many as I might have once.”

Back before he had been known as a brutal murderer, a beast, a king of blood who abandoned his people. He _had_ received marriage proposals in the past, at least a dozen by letter before he even entered Garreg Mach. He wondered how many of those ladies would still look at him with admiration rather than fear.

His tone had been matter-of-fact as he spoke, indifferent, but now it matched the grateful look he gave her. “All the same, you have my word that any such choice on my end will be made carefully.”

Ingrid’s face was difficult to read. She looked as though she was trying to decide whether to smile or frown. Finally, she gave another shake of her head. “Sylvain’s rubbed off on you, Your Highness.”

That clearly wasn’t a compliment. “How so?”

“You speak as though you’re resigned to being judged at surface level. You assume no one will _want_ to get to know you.”

“I’m not so pessimistic as that,” Dimitri protested, but he didn’t sound so sure.

“Indeed,” she quipped with a bristle of sarcasm. “You’re only selling yourself so short as to believe there isn’t a single woman in the country who might see you as a husband rather than an asset.”

He couldn’t fathom why she seemed so bothered by this. “Is it really such a wild assumption to make?” he wondered, honestly curious. “I don’t say these things out of spite. I merely prefer to be realistic. Should no one desire me so, I—”

“I would.”

Ingrid stared down his look of surprise, cool and confident as though daring him to try and argue with _that_.

Then, slowly, she blinked, and as abruptly as a candle being snuffed out, her expression crumbled. “That—!” She quickly turned her face away. “That is— In that situation, of course—if we _were_ in that situation, which we clearly aren’t—I just meant that I would—I’m not so shallow as to—oh, but—this isn’t about me, of course—I just meant it as an example, so—I’m just saying… that…”

“At ease, Ingrid. I know what you meant.”

She eyed him with a sidelong look, her face a light shade of pink. Dimitri set a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Please, don’t feel embarrassed by such a hypothetical situation on my account. I won’t take it the wrong way.”

He felt her relax beneath his fingers. “Oh,” she said tonelessly. Suddenly she tensed again. “...Oh! Good! Yes. Yes, that’s good. I, um…”

“I appreciate the reassurance, truly. And I know you wouldn’t speak dishonestly, even to spare my feelings, so your words mean a lot to me.” His hand fell away. Ingrid still didn’t look at him directly. “Although,” he mused with a chuckle, “if that’s how you feel, perhaps we’ve found a potential solution for both our situations.”

Her head snapped up, green eyes wide for the split-second before she looked away again. “Oh—you jest.”

“Well, yes.” Had she thought otherwise? He’d spoken casually and without thinking, but now he reconsidered it in a moment of mild curiosity. “Although, purely from the standpoint of convenience, I think few would be as well-suited to one another as you and I.”

She turned back to him, appearing guarded. “Convenience?”

“Few people know me better than you,” Dimitri reasoned. “You would know what to expect, and by your own words would be content with such a union. In return I would be happy to have one of my dearest friends at my side, and confident that you could rise to the pressures of the station.”

Ingrid said nothing, her lips parted slightly as she continued to stare up at him.

“Of course, that’s speaking nothing of the matter of—courtship—but otherwise…” He let that awkward thought end there, figuring she would catch his meaning. Ingrid tilted her head with an analyzing look.

“Courtship? Didn’t you just tell me you would consent to a loveless marriage if need be?”

“I did. But I would not ask that of you.”

Perhaps she was thrown off by how serious he sounded: her mouth opened and closed again, and it seemed her eyes couldn’t settle on a single place between his chin and his chest. “We’re… still speaking hypothetically, yes?”

That gave Dimitri pause, but any inklings of embarrassment were quickly outweighed by his earnest concern. “Yes. But I mean it all the same—I would never ask you to give anything if you weren’t entirely sure that you would be happy with the result. Not to the kingdom, and certainly not to me.”

When next she raised her head, Dimitri found he could only hold her gaze for a few seconds before glancing aside. “But I digress,” he told her. “I’m sorry if I put you on the spot with my remarks, or made you uncomfortable in any way.”

“No, it’s… I was surprised, is all. But… I wouldn’t say you were wrong. About the convenience of it, I mean,” she said quickly.

“Indeed. At the very least, if nothing else works out, you can consider me a failsafe plan,” he joked.

Ingrid laughed softly into her hand. “You certainly wouldn’t be my last resort, Your Highness.” The color in her face might have deepened a shade.

Dimitri hummed thoughtfully. “Nor you mine.” That thought led to another and, somewhat impulsively, he suggested, “How’s this, then—once this war is over, should we see… let’s say... two more years without any promising marriage prospects, we’ll reconsider this topic.”

She laughed again, loudly, but immediately stopped as she did a double-take at his expression. “Are you—? Wait. What? You’re _not_ serious—are you?”

He shrugged to play off the heat that was starting to creep into his face, as well. He had so few opportunities to harmlessly tease her like this. It was tempting to drag it out a little longer. “Perhaps. Not to hold you to your previous remarks, but you could do worse, could you not?”

She half-rolled her eyes before catching herself. “Much worse.”

“Well, there you have it. It may be worth revisiting another time.”

There was a pause, and then Ingrid chuckled under her breath. “This has to be the most _unique_ proposal I’ve received, I’ll give you that.”

“Proposal?” he echoed. “Hm… Yes, I suppose it was a proposal of sorts, wasn’t it?”

“ ‘Of sorts?’ You’re suggesting we get _married_ in a few years! What else would you call it?” She sighed, but she failed to hide her smile. “Honestly.”

The rain was beginning to slow. A glance along the southern horizon showed a hint of sky behind the ceiling of grey clouds, and the distant lightning flashes were hardly more than the occasional glimmer.

Dimitri was content with letting the matter drop there, so he was caught off guard when Ingrid asked quietly,

“Should I really expect you to hold to that, Your Highness?”

He looked at her, but she kept her face turned towards the entrance. He couldn’t tell whether she was joking or asking in earnest, so after a moment he decided to gamble on the latter. “That depends. Is there a chance you would say yes?”

She dropped her chin towards her chest, hiding her expression completely for a few heartbeats. When she raised her head at last, that blush was high in her face, and softer. Her gentle answer was simply,

“Yes. There’s a chance.”

Dimitri wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but that rare glimpse of vulnerability in the look—something honest but hesitant, hopeful but cautious, as though she had opened herself to him in a way she never had with anyone else—came as a surprise, to say the least. It also coaxed his reply out of him with little need for thought.

“Then expect me to ask again one day—circumstances willing.”

* * *

They departed from the cave soon after that. The ride was as long as Ingrid had predicted, and night fell before they made contact with their allies.

They traded off the reins every couple hours. On the last stretch, Ingrid managed to drift off as her exhaustion finally took its toll, and Dimitri locked his arms over her hips to keep her secured. She settled into the crook of his arm and began to snore lightly, making him smile.

Neither of them had spoken of their previous conversation as they rode along, which Dimitri found relieving—not out of embarrassment, but the reassurance that he hadn’t driven an awkward wedge into their friendship with it. As the two of them always seemed to do, they fell right back into their usual respectful-yet-casual relationship. They hadn’t changed all that much since childhood, he realized. He wondered if they’d really changed at all.

She was a rare source of solidarity in his life that he’d taken for granted, even during their academy days. Dimitri had constantly had his eyes fixed forward and elsewhere, enjoying her company but keeping her at arm’s length. He had reminisced on the past with her often, and gladly, but pushed her aside when it came to his future. He had been that way with everyone, but few had been as rigidly loyal as she.

In contrast, he had always been her future: her future king, her future lord and commander, the future face of the country she loved so much.

And now, perhaps, he could be something else in her future, as well.

He suddenly, solemnly wondered if he had any right to be.

By the time the scouts found them, Dimitri was sore in more places than he cared to think about, and content with the idea of avoiding horses for a while. He dismounted and carefully took Ingrid with him, doing his best not to jostle her, but her snoring was louder now and betrayed the deep sleep she was in. A knight led the Pegasus away and Dimitri walked the rest of the short distance to the army’s camp to work the cramps out of his legs.

Word of his return spread fast. Predictably, he got an earful—a stern reprimand from Gustave, a much less respectful string of insults and accusations from Felix, and even a soft but anxious word from Mercedes who insisted he move no further until she’d looked them both over. For the most part he only nodded and agreed and apologized for worrying them, letting them vent their concerns as each chose to do and promising to explain the day’s events after some rest.

Dedue’s greeting was a more modest one: a sad, heavy stare and an attempt at an apology, but Dimitri cut him off with a gentle smile and the firm insistence that he would accept nothing of the sort for his own clumsy mistake.

Dimitri passed Ingrid off to Sylvain, assured Mercedes that the only treatment he needed was sleep, and then despite his building headache went first to seek out the professor. He would have a word with her, at least, and ask for an update regarding all that he’d missed, and then check on Ingrid one last time before retiring to his tent.

He hoped she wouldn’t be _too_ irate with him in the morning for allowing her to go on sleeping, but if so, that was fine. Their like-minded hypocrisy about one another’s well-being was yet another constant that went back as far as their friendship did.

As he was wont to do, Dimitri couldn’t help considering the future in that regard—and hoped dearly that their friendship would see another two dozen years beyond this war, at the very least.

However, and with whomever, they each chose to spend them.


End file.
